


Whatever This Is

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, No Angst, One Night Stand, Smut, killer hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madge and Gale hook up after a friend’s wedding and then have to deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Madge woke up, acutely aware of three things.  First, her head was pounding.  Second, her eyes were burning, as she’d apparently slept in her contacts.  Third, Gale Hawthorne’s arm was laying over her torso, and it was  _heavy._ Oh, and he was naked, and so was she.

Oh,  _shit_.

 

She wriggled her way out from under his arm, scanning the hotel room for her underwear.  She found them on the floor, the black standing out against the bland beige of the carpet, and shimmied into them, doing her best not to look at Gale, or think about what happened, or—oh, shit.  Her stomach roiling, she dashed to the bathroom and immediately began regurgitating everything she’d eaten, drank, or even looked at in the past 48 hours.  She was dimly aware that she was doing all of this topless, and was considering grabbing a towel, but her present…situation kept her knees glued to the floor in front of the toilet.  During a particularly vicious bout, she felt something being draped over her shoulders, and another pair of hands wound into her hair, holding it back until she was finished.  Madge sat back on her heels and looked up at him.  Gale looked as terrible as she felt, which was a small consolation.  She leaned against the tub, gratefully buttoning his shirt (that had been what he put on her shoulders, apparently) as he slid down the wall across from her.  He’d put his boxer briefs back on, which was good.  Madge wasn’t sure she was up for dealing with Naked Gale Hawthorne in her condition.  They stared at each other for a moment before she broke the silence.

“So…what the  _fuck_  happened last night?”

“Well, Katniss and Peeta got married, and we got drunk and hooked up.”

She threw him a withering look.  “ _Obviously_.  What I’m wondering is why are we in a hotel? We both live in this city.  Why on earth did we get a hotel room?  Why not take a cab back to one of our apartments?”

Gale looked a little sheepish, which was impressive considering he mostly looked like hell.  “I’m pretty sure it was your idea, actually.  We’d sort of…decided things, and you pointed out that we were already in a hotel and you didn’t feel like waiting any longer.”

Oh  _god._ That did sound like her.  Well, drunk-her.  When Madge got drunk, she got a little…impatient.  That bit of the night came rushing back to her—Gale whispering in her ear on the dance floor, her suggestion, him booking the room.  “How much was the room?  I can pay you back, or we can split it.  After all, this was my stupid idea.”

Gale waved her suggestion away, his already grey-ish skin paling a bit more.  “It’s fine.  It’s not like I fought you on it, so I think we can safely say this was our stupid-“ Gale cut off mid sentence, his breathing suddenly speeding up.  “Move,” he barked, and she just had time to crawl a little further away when Gale leaned over the toilet and starting throwing up everything  _he’d_  eaten.  They were quite the trainwreck this morning, it seemed.

Madge pushed herself to her feet—something that should not have been that difficult—and stumbled to the sink.  She filled two water glasses and sat back down heavily, handing him one as he finished.  “Did we…we used a condom, right?” she ventured, praying that her brain wasn’t lying to her.  She  _thought_ she remembered a condom, but then again, she was remembering other things too.  Things that didn’t quite fit with “drunken hookup in the heat of passion.”  Sure, she remembered basically tearing his suit coat off, tugging on his tie and scraping her teeth along his jawline, and she remembered him lifting her up and pressing her against the wall while he kissed her fiercely and dug his fingers into her thighs.  Those things made sense.  What didn’t make sense were those other memories, like how he’d laced their fingers together while he was moving inside of her, and he how he’d cupped her cheek like she was something precious.  Or the way his face had lit up as she returned from cleaning up in the bathroom, and the things he’d murmured in her ear as she fell asleep on his chest.   _Those_  memories didn’t really fit the scenario, and if she couldn’t trust those memories, she didn’t trust any of them.

“Yeah, there’s a condom in the trash, so I think we’re okay,” Gale replied.  “And just in case, my last STD screening came back clear, and I haven’t been with anyone else since then.  Any chance you’re on the pill?”

Madge nodded, relieved.  “My last STD panel was clear too, so at least we don’t have to worry about any of that right now.  What I am wondering is what the  _fuck_  did we drink last night?  I remember too much to be this hungover.”

“Welcome to your late 20s, Undersee.  The pay is better, but the hangovers are worse.”

Madge opened her mouth to point out that she’d  _never_  been this hungover and she drank fairly frequently, but stopped.  She really couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this drunk.  Katniss’ bachelorette party was pretty low-key, and since Johanna had left town three years ago the amount of bar-hopping she did with her girlfriends had plummeted.  Neither she nor Katniss were super into the bar or club scene, and while Delly loved it, Delly also had a tendency to end up kind of weepy when she drank.  Happy, “I love you all so much and I’m so glad we’re friends” kind of weepy that Katniss straight-out refused to deal with and Madge would rather not handle either.  So in the past few years, Madge’s weekends had gotten considerably less “let’s go party” and considerably more “let’s have two glasses of wine and be home by 11.”  This probably was the first night in the past three years that she’d gotten drunk enough to…well, drunk enough to get a hotel room with Gale Hawthorne, so this was probably her first hangover in three years as well.  And it was  _awful_.

Gale groaned, setting down his water glass.  “Any chance you’ve got a toothbrush on you, Undersee?  Maybe tucked into those pockets on your bridesmaid dress?  Because check-out is probably pretty soon, and I don’t feel like talking to a clerk while my teeth feel like sweaters and my breath smells like a dog’s.”

“Charming.  No, I don’t—wait, what about my pockets?”

“Your dress.  It had pockets.  You must have told me half a dozen times.  You could  _keep_  things in them, like lip gloss, and your phone.”

Oh, she remembered that now.  “Right.  But no, sorry.  Let me see if I can get some from room service.”

“Won’t that cost a billion dollars?”

“Probably,” Madge conceded.  “But it’s better than leaving here feeling like this.  It’ll be my treat.”  She dragged herself into the bedroom, called room service, and surveyed the damage.  Her shoes were tipped over near the door, Gale’s jacket crumpled beside them.  His tie was on the chair, peeking out from under her dress, and his pants and shoes were on the floor on one side of the bed while her bra was on the other.  She started steeling herself for the walk outside, since she had nothing else to wear and Gale was going to need his shirt back before they left.  She might as well put a sign over her head saying “Walk of Shame: Commencing.”  Room service arrived, and she briefly considered asking Gale to answer the door (since she was pantless, and all), but judging from the sounds coming from the bathroom even more of yesterday’s festivities were making a reappearance.  So she opened the door a crack, accepted the toothbrush and toothpaste, and passed the money back out.

Thirty minutes later, they had mostly reassembled themselves into something resembling people.  Gale had his shirt back on and Madge was in her dress, the remains of her makeup scraped off her face.  Gale had offered his suit jacket, but she felt like that would be even more obvious.  He still looked unnervingly grey, however, and Madge was avoiding looking at her haggard reflection in the mirror.  But this was as good as they were going to get, so they left the room and Madge hurried to the curb to hail a cab while Gale signed off on the room.

Safely ensconced in the cab, both of them let out a sigh of relief.  It was overly hot and muggy for early September, and just the few minutes outside were enough to make her dizzy again.  After a brief consultation they agreed to go to Madge’s place first, and although the cabbie was sending them dubious looks in his mirror they made it without incident.  Gale helped her out onto the sidewalk, paying the cabbie and grabbing her arm since she’d gotten a little wobbly upon her exit.  Madge protested, telling Gale to just take the cab back to his place, but he brushed off her objections.  He was going to make sure she made it to her apartment in one piece, and that meant door to door service.

By the second floor landing, Madge was cursing herself for wanting a top floor apartment.  Who in their right mind agrees to live in a four story building without an elevator?  Madge Undersee, apparently.  And she was going to die, right here on the second floor landing, for her folly.  “Gale, wait.  I can’t.  I’ve gotta sit down for a minute.”  She sat down with an  _oof_  on the bottom step and Gale sank down beside her, breathing far more heavily than usual.  And he still smelled like vodka, which was gross and not helping Madge feel any better.  She prayed that her nosy second floor neighbor would still be at church, because the last thing she needed was another church flyer stuffed under her door.   _That_  had happened when she kicked Gloss out, and they’d started yelling at each other in the hallway.

Gale’s phone beeped with a text message, and he swore violently when he read it.

“What now?” Madge asked, hoping there wasn’t some out-of-town girlfriend or something.

“Oh, it’s nothing.  It’s just Thom is having Thresh and the guys over to watch the game.  Which means yelling and alcohol, and my head is about to split open as it is.”

Madge thought for a second before responding.  “Then just stay here for the day.  I’ve got plenty of space, and I can promise no yelling or alcohol.”

Gale nudged her with his shoulder before standing up and offering her a hand.  “You’ve got yourself a deal, Undersee.”  He pulled her to her feet, and with a lot of heavy breathing and leaning on each other, they made it to the fourth floor.

Inside her apartment, a black streak of fur ran past them, hissing when he reached the couch.  “That’s Horatio,” she explained.  “He hates it when I leave, and he hates guys more.”  She knew Horatio would be hiding under the couch for the better part of the day to show his displeasure at her absence and Gale’s presence.  It wasn’t that he had to go without food and water—she had one of those automatic set ups, since sometimes the partners demanded she work insanely long hours at the firm—but he generally hid for a while if she hadn’t come home the night before.  And he had yet to like any guy who had come to her apartment—even Peeta, and Peeta had Prim’s mangy beast wrapped around his finger.

Gale hung his jacket on a hook next to the door and toed his shoes off, shifting from foot to foot.  “So…is it all right if I go pass out on your couch?”

“Actually, just use my bed.  I’m going to shower and then I’ll probably watch TV.  That okay?”

He nodded vaguely, padding into the kitchen and opening cupboards.  “Where are your glasses?  We should probably have some more water.”

“Top left, near the sink,” she called, pulling her heels off and heading toward the bedroom.  Gale followed her in moments later, wordlessly handing her a glass of ice water and setting his down on the floor next to the bed.  He sank down onto her bed and then flopped backwards, his feet still on the floor.

“I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it.  I’m never drinking again,” Gale announced, throwing an arm up over his eyes.

Madge murmured her assent, preoccupied with twisting her arms around her back and trying to get the damn zipper unstuck.  She heard movement behind her, and then Gale was standing there, gently moving her hair over her shoulder and slowly unzipping her dress.  His knuckle grazed her lower back, and she knew that if she was capable of feeling something other than  _absolutely horrible_  at the moment, it would have sent shivers down her spine.  She turned her head slightly, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.  She whispered her thanks and escaped into the adjoining bathroom, clutching her dress to her chest.

It took 20 minutes of standing (well, mostly sitting) under the showerhead before Madge felt like moving.  She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, silently cursing herself for not having the foresight to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom.  Granted, Gale had seen her topless and vomiting this morning (a memory that would probably always make her cringe) and they’d had sex the night before, but she felt oddly uncomfortable with the idea of changing in front of him.  It was just so… _domestic._ She put on her glasses, wrapped herself securely in the towel and opened the door to the bedroom where Gale was (fortunately, for her) passed out on his back, snoring lightly.  He had stripped down to his boxer briefs again, and she found herself transfixed by the dark smattering of hair on his chest and lower abdomen, arrowing down to—nope.  Nope. Nope. Nope.  She shook her head.  This was  _exactly_  the sort of thinking that had gotten her into this mess, and now she was more hungover than she had ever been before  _and_  Gale Hawthorne was asleep in her bed.  Chastising herself, she tiptoed past the bed and into the closet, quickly dressing in yoga pants, a tank top, and old grey wrap.  It wasn’t her prettiest outfit ever, but, as she reminded herself, they were a little beyond trying to impress each other at this point.

Out in the living room, she settled down in her favorite corner of the couch, the water Gale had gotten for her perched on the end table and a pack of saltines resting on the blanket in her lap (she kept the air conditioning blasting, her one major extravagance.  She hated feeling hot, even if it meant her feet were usually freezing).  There would be lot of crumbs to clean up from the saltines, but she was too tired to care.  Her head was still throbbing and her stomach felt like she was on a boat, but at least she was showered and in comfy clothes.  So she fired up her AppleTV, chose a random season of Law & Order: SVU on Netflix, and sat back, hoping that eventually she wouldn’t feel like something she’d scrapped off a shoe.

Sometime later—she wasn’t sure how long, but it was definitely a different episode playing than the one she remembered—Madge awoke to Gale shuffling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs, his arms crossed over the broad, smooth planes of his chest, his hair dripping with water.  He’d apparently just showered, and she watched as a droplet of water fell from his shaggy dark hair onto his shoulder and began rolling—she stopped herself again.   _Focus, Madge_.  Gale seemed a little dazed as well, looking at her a little more intensely than the situation called for.  Somehow, the look on his face reminded her his reaction to her CEO outfit that time he’d visited Katniss sophomore year.  _Wait, why was she thinking about that weekend?  That was ages ago_.  She realized he was talking, but she hadn’t heard a word.  Shit.  Shitshitshit.  “Sorry, what was that?” 

“I was asking if there’s any chance you’ve got a pair of yoga pants that fit me, but I’m guessing the answer is no.”

She started to shake her head, but then remembered something.  She pushed herself off the couch—still  _way_  too difficult for her, considering she was a relatively-in-shape adult— dislodging Horatio in the process, who had condescended to come out from his hiding place and sit in her lap at some point while she slept.  She headed back to her bedroom, rummaging around in the back of her closet until she found what she was looking for.  In the living room, Gale had flopped onto the love seat perpendicular to the big sofa, but he was so tall his knees were draped over one arm, his feet dangling.  She dropped the t-shirt and sweatpants she’d found onto his stomach.  “Here.  They’re probably a little wide and a little short for you, but they should fit okay.”  He held them up with a questioning look.  She sighed.  “They were Gloss’, all right?  He left them here when I dumped him, and I just didn’t feel like dealing with him again so I kept them.”

Gale cleared his throat.  “Gloss, eh?”  He put the sweatpants on, and as she suspected, they were several inches too short.  He rolled his eyes at the t-shirt, a beat up old Hooters shirt that Gloss had been inexplicably attached to.  (In retrospect, there had been more than one red flag about him.)

She curled back up on the couch, annoyed that she was going to have to tell the story.  “I know, it’s a dumb name.  And he loved that fucking shirt, but don’t ask me why.  He was a friend of some law school friends, and they set us up.  We only dated for maybe three months, and two months in he just, like,  _moved in_.  He still had an apartment and everything, he just decided he liked mine better and made space for himself in a drawer.”

“I’m surprised you put up with that, Undersee.”

“Well, I wasn’t thrilled, but at first I thought maybe I was overreacting.”  An only child, Madge had never really had to share her space with anyone except Katniss during college, and Katniss lived so spartanly it really wasn’t much of a problem.  So at first, when Gloss was suddenly  _everywhere_ , she told herself that this was just how it was, that this is what it was like to share an apartment with someone when you’re in a relationship.  Madge liked her space, and her things being exactly where she’d left them, and having Gloss around all the time started raising her stress level.  But she didn’t feel like bringing this up to Gale “I grew up in a tiny house with three siblings and still have a roommate at age thirty for no discernable reason” Hawthorne.  She didn’t think he’d understand.  “Anyway, about a week after that he lost his job, and then he really was here all the time, and he started hinting that I should just let him move in because it would be cheaper.  It wasn’t so much that he was here a lot, it was that when he  _was_ here, he didn’t  _do_  anything.  I still had to cook dinner for both of us—even if I had to work late.  He never even offered.  And one night, we were out to dinner and he casually announced that he was going to cancel his lease the next day, without even  _asking_  if it would be all right with me.  So I walked out of the restaurant, came back here, and starting packing all his shit up.  I missed those things in the purge and getting them back to him seemed like a low priority.”

Gale chuckled, rearranging himself on the love seat so his head was nearer to her.  “Remind me never to cross you, Undersee.  But I would have paid to see that.”

She smiled to herself, reaching for the remote to unpause the episode, but Gale interrupted.  “Wait, what’s a lawyer doing watching Law and Order: SVU?  Shouldn’t you hate this shit?  And if this is the episode with Jennifer Love Hewitt, can we please watch a different one?  Like the one where Cragen has a monkey in a basketball?”

“Putting aside  _your_  encyclopedic knowledge of this show for a second, yes, I should probably hate it but I’ve been watching it for much longer than I’ve been a lawyer.  And while their understanding of what, exactly, constitutes a warrant is pretty abysmal, it’s still comforting to me.  And why do you know so much about this show?  Did your mom have a crush on Stabler or something?

He shook his head.  “She’s more of a Jack McCoy lady, actually.  I was the one with the crush on Olivia Benson.”  He twisted his neck so he could grin at her.  “Just hit play, Undersee.”

So she did, and somehow, the hours ticked by.  They shared the crackers and took turns refilling each other’s water, calling out the twists to episodes as they remembered them.  Two episodes in, Horatio abandoned her for Gale’s stomach, earning her a smug smile from Gale.  Later, Gale made them both toast, which helped.  Despite the fact that her body felt like she might, in fact, be dying, she was almost enjoying herself.

As the sky darkened outside, Gale pushed himself into a sitting position.  “There’s a pretty good ramen place not too far from here, you know.  Think they do take out?”

Madge shrugged, but agreed that if she was going to be able to eat anything, ramen would probably do the trick.  Gale called in the order, and 30 minutes later they were perched on stools next to each other in her kitchen.  The ramen was delicious, and by the time she finished her bowl she was feeling fairly human again.  Judging from the color that had returned to his cheeks—and the fact that he kept twisting his stool so that his knees would knock into hers, and then giggling at himself– Gale was feeling the same way.  He’d be leaving soon, she realized, suddenly registering that she wasn’t quite ready for him to go.  She’d spent the day feeling like she got hit by a freight train, but it was also somehow one of the best days she’d had in a long time.  He stood up and grabbed her bowl, carrying it to the sink and rinsing it.  Gale leaned against the island, resting on his elbows.  His hands were clasped just in front of her; all she had to do was move her hands a few inches forward, but she found herself frozen.  Gale didn’t seem to be able to look her in the eye either, focusing instead on his hands.

“Madge, it’s been really great being here today, but—“

“Don’t go,” she blurted, unable to stop herself.  “I was…I was going to take a bath in a bit.  You should stay.”

Gale’s head snapped up, his eyebrows almost disappearing under the shock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead.  “Uh, what?”

Madge’s face burned as she trained her eyes on the counter top.   _Did I really just say that? Shit. Shitshitshit._  The easy intimacy of the day had made her forget that he was just a one-night stand.  A one-night stand who spent the day with her recovering from the activities that had led to said one-night stand, but still.  She stammered about how a bath is her usual cure for a hangover, trying to figure out a way to make this not the most awkward situation  _ever_ , but Gale stopped her.

“Madge,” he said quietly.  “Look at me.” 

It took her a second, but she raised her head and made eye contact with him.  His dark grey eyes were soft, and maybe it was her imagination but it seemed like the tips of his ears were turning dark red.  Without even thinking, she reached out and knotted her fingers with his, and he let out a deep breath.  “If you want me to stay, I will.  Why don’t you go run the bath, and I’ll handle the dishes.”

Overwhelmed by the need to escape, she nodded and slid off the stool.  In the bathroom, she closed the door and rested her forehead against it.   _Shit.  Did I really just ask_ Gale Hawthorne _to take a_ bath _with me?  What the fuck is wrong with me?_   Even weirder was the fact that he seemed to have _accepted_.  She cranked the knobs above the bath, a deep, claw footed tub that had been one of the major selling points for her when she rented the apartment.  It would take a while to fill up, so she paced the bathroom, trying to work the jitters out.  She heard the clinking of dishes from the kitchen and considered telling him to just put them in the dishwasher, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back out there.  And it was only a couple of bowls and spoons, she reasoned, it wasn’t like there was a ton to do.  So she stayed in the bathroom, trying not to freak out.

The tub was nearly filled, but Gale still hadn’t entered the bathroom.  Wracked with nerves, she opened the door to her bedroom only to find Gale standing there, looking desperately uncomfortable.  “I, ah, wasn’t sure, I mean, I didn’t know, if, uh,” he stuttered, his ears definitely red now.

Somehow, his nervousness calmed her down.  She reached out and grabbed his hand, wordlessly pulling him into the bathroom.  She started shedding her clothes, still not quite able to speak but a little more sure of herself.  He watched her quietly, softly trailing a finger over her shoulder and upper arm.  When she was bare, he held a hand out and helped her into the tub before crossing his arms and pulling off his shirt.  The sweatpants and boxer briefs went next and he slid into the tub behind her, hissing when his feet hit the hot water.  “Jesus Christ, Undersee.  Are you part Targaryen?”

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she deadpanned, the tension broken.  She settled her back against his chest, resting between his legs and letting her head drop back against his shoulder.  It was as if the awkwardness of the past few minutes had never existed.  His lips brushed the shell of her ear as they talked, her fingers drawing idle patterns on his kneecaps.  They lapsed into silence, and he placed a soft kiss where her shoulder met her neck.  It occurred to her that even though this was probably the most intimate day she’d ever had, they hadn’t kissed since the night before.  Her memories of the previous night seemed less strange now, but she still didn’t feel quite prepared to examine them, or think about what last night, or even today, might mean.  So, like the emotionally healthy adult she was, she changed the subject.  “Why do you live with Thom?”

“Hmm?”  Gale was distracted, whispering kisses up and down the nape of her neck.

“Why do you live with Thom?  I mean, you’re thirty.  Why have a roommate?”  She cringed at the way her question sounded, almost accusatory and probably too invasive.

Gale shrugged, sloshing water around the tub.  “I did live on my own for a bit, after Rory moved in with Prim.  I didn’t like it much—I’m used to living with people, I guess.  So when Thom broke up with his girlfriend and needed a place to stay, it just made sense.”  He slid his hands over hers on the edge of the tub.  “Besides, it gives me the perfect excuse for not going home when I want to spend a day with a beautiful woman.”

She made a face, craning her neck so she could look at him.  “Is that so?”

Gale responded by kissing the tip of her nose and wrapping his arms more securely around her.  Madge sighed in contentment, glad that she hadn’t offended him and happy that whatever  _this_  was, it was so…easy.

Fifteen minutes later, the water was cooling and their fingers were wrinkled and pruny.  Madge climbed out first, grabbing her towel and handing another one to Gale.  In her room, she threw on an old t-shirt from a law school fundraising 5k and pulled back the covers.  Gale was back into his boxer briefs, but before he could put his pants back on she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her.  “Madge, I should…we both have to work tomorrow,” he protested.  But Madge just quietly climbed into bed, holding the covers open for him.  With a gentle smile he slid in after her, pulling her close so her cheek rested against his chest.  “Just for a little while, okay?  Then I have to go.”  But Madge was already drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Madge awoke the next morning to the blaring of her alarm.  Her bed was empty, and her apartment was silent except for the alarm and Horatio’s mewling from the foot of the bed.  She turned off the alarm reached for her glasses on her nightstand.  (Wait, didn’t she leave these in the bathroom?  She could have sworn she’d left them there before crawling into bed.  With  _Gale._   Something she would think about later.)  Her fingers brushed a folded piece of paper as well.  She sat cross-legged on her bed and began to read:

_Madge,_

_Sorry to leave like this, but I didn’t want to wake you and didn’t think work would want me showing up in a suit I wore to a wedding on Saturday.  I don’t know when you normally get up, so I set your alarm for 6:30.  I hope you’re feeling better, and I put my number in your phone if you ever want to talk._

_-Gale_

 

A hazy memory surfaced, of Gale moving quietly around her room, kissing her forehead softly and whispering good bye.  Gloss’ sweatpants and t-shirt were neatly folded in front of her closet, and she smiled to herself at the care he took with those ratty old things that weren’t even his in the first place.  She felt much better than the day before—a little woozy, but nothing a few actual meals wouldn’t fix—and she wasn’t sure if it was the lack of the hangover or the memory of the day before that was making her grin as she got ready for work.

Work, however, did its best to wipe the smile off her face.  Mind-numbing brief after mind-numbing brief piled up on her desk, and her only distraction was a notification from Facebook that Prim had already uploaded  _forty-five_  pictures of her.  Madge wasn’t sure she wanted to see photographic evidence of her decision making process on Saturday.  She remembered it well enough—a few glasses of wine, followed by champagne, followed by talking with Gale while others danced, followed by him pulling her out on the dance floor and saying he’d wanted to do that for a long time, followed a few more dances, followed by her… _suggestion_.  She cringed, hoping that most of the pictures would be wedding party related.  Madge pulled her phone out no less than five times, trying to think of something to text Gale.  But what should she say?   _Thanks for a great one-night stand?  Sorry you saw me puking in my underwear?  Thanks for being hungover with me, it was weirdly fun?  Sorry I asked you to take a bath with me, even though it ended up being really nice?_   She was at a loss, so each time she pulled her phone out she put it away.

By lunchtime, she was in a terrible mood, made all the worse by Alma Coin informing her that the merger they were working on had requested the presence of a member of their firm in the final days, and Coin had suggested Madge.  She knew she should be flattered, since this meant the firm trusted her with finishing up a big project, but Madge couldn’t bring herself to feel that way.  Instead, it just meant spending four days in a city two hours away, being called “dear” by men old enough to be her father, ogled, and asked to get coffee when she was actually running the meeting.  And the salad she’d made herself for lunch that morning, convinced she was going to be virtuous to make up for her weekend, was bland and boring.  She scowled at it, like it was being bland on purpose.

And now, someone was knocking on her door.  Dreading another visit from Coin, or yet another partner with more work for her, she took a deep breath and braced herself.  “Come in!” she called, putting on her best “no, I’m not annoyed at all” smile.  But instead of more work, Gale poked his head in.

“Is now a good time?  I brought lunch.”  He shouldered the door open, his hands preoccupied with two plastic bags holding take out containers that smelled greasy and  _heavenly_.

She was up and out of her chair before she even realized what she was doing.  “Yes!  Thank you!  You’re a lifesaver.”  She wrapped her arms around his waist and he awkwardly pulled his arms in closer, trying to return her hug and balance the food at the same time.

He stepped back.  “No problem, but I need you to answer one question.  Undersee, what the hell is on your feet?”

Her feet?  Oh,  _shit_.  The socks.  The pink, fuzzy socks she kept in her desk for days when the air conditioning made her feet cold.  Her sensible black pumps were still under her desk, forgotten when she saw Gale’s smile.  She started blushing.  “It gets kind of cold in here sometimes, so I….ugh.  My feet are cold, okay?  So I wear dumb socks.”

Gale grinned and winked.  He  _winked._    “They’re cute, is all.” He turned to the low coffee table sitting in front of the crappy couch in her office, pulling out the boxes—which contained grilled cheese and fries, god bless him—and settled onto the couch.

Something occurred to her.  “Wait, how did you know where I worked?  I mean, I know I told you about the firm, but how did you find the office?  And  _my_  office?  And how did you get past reception?”

“There’s this little thing called Google, Undersee.  I work just two buildings over, so I thought I’d stop by.  As for reception, I just told them I had a lunch meeting with you, and since I’m all official-looking in my suit, they let me on through.”  He was already tearing into his sandwich, which looked gooey and delicious.  She stopped dithering and sat down next to him, taking a huge bite and moaning in response.  “You know, I could get used to that sound,” Gale mumbled around a mouthful of food, and then winked.   _Again_.  At her rising blush, he knocked his shoulder into hers, making her smile.

They ate quietly for a while, both of them enjoying their grease-fest.  Then Gale asked about her day, and the whole story came spilling out—the merger, the request for her presence, the impending trip, her annoyance at having to go, everything.  “Who’s gonna feed Horatio while you’re gone?” he asked, wiping his fingers off with a brown paper napkin.

Horatio.   _Shit._   She’d completely forgotten.  She was the absolute worst pet owner,  _ever_.  The automatic set up was fine for a day or so, but if Horatio was left to his own devices for four days she shuddered to think of the state of her apartment when she got back.  Normally, Katniss or Peeta would handle it if she was leaving town for any length of time, but they were off on their honeymoon, probably boinking like rabbits. “Shit, I don’t know.  Maybe I’ll see if Prim can do it, or if she can’t, I suppose I could call Delly.”

Gale shook his head.  “I’ll do it.  He likes me anyway, and I don’t live too far from you while Prim is clear on the other side of town.  Do you happen to have a spare key on you, or should I stop by tonight?”

“No, that’s fine.  I can drop it off with you tomorrow on my way out of town.”  She needed to pack tonight, and she had a suspicion that Gale showing up would be a bit of a distraction.

“Ah, dammit.  What time do you leave tomorrow?  I have a site visit at 7am, so I’ll be gone a little after six.”

“Will Thom be there?  I could leave it with him.  And I can leave instructions for food and things on the counter.”

Gale nodded, looking slightly crestfallen.  But almost an hour had passed since she started lunch, and if she was going to be leaving the next morning she still had loads of work to get through.  Reluctantly, she stood up.  “Thanks, Gale.  For…for everything.  For lunch, for listening, for offering to feed Horatio.  Really, thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Undersee.  Happy to help.”  And with that, he dropped the briefest of kisses to the top of her head and hurried out the door.

 

***

It was Friday night, and Madge was exhausted.  The merger was completed, but the past four days had been an endless sea of condescending old white men treating her like a secretary.  But while Madge was nice to  _her_  secretary, these men certainly weren’t.  And once the paperwork was all done and everything signed, they’d insisted on “celebrating,” which really meant “going out to happy hour and leering at her breasts, asking inappropriate questions about whether or not she was ‘taken,’ and hinting that their wedding rings were negotiable.”  To make things worse, it started thunderstorming on her drive home, so the two hour drive turned into four, and then she couldn’t find parking on her block and ended up having to park three blocks over.  The temperature had dropped nearly forty degrees from the weekend before, bringing autumn in with full force.  As a result she was soaking wet, freezing, disheveled, and cranky, and while she was looking forward to some kitty-snuggles from Horatio, she was definitely  _not_  looking forward to whatever microwave dinner she had stashed in her freezer.  Ugh.  Maybe she’d order a pizza or something.

She struggled up the steps with her suitcase, once again cursing herself for living on the fourth floor.  One of her neighbors was cooking something garlicky, which made her stomach rumble.  Yeah, she was definitely going to have to order out—frozen dinners weren’t going to cut it tonight.  And hopefully Horatio wouldn’t be sulky, because she was feeling rather beat down.  She thought it should be okay, since judging from Gale’s texts it seemed like everything had gone well.

Gale.  She still didn’t know where she stood with him.  She had found Gale’s townhome without incident on Tuesday morning, on a quiet street lined with newly restored brownstones only a few miles away.   The neighborhood was so different from her own bland set of apartment buildings, with mom and pop stores on practically every corner.  Thom let her in, momentarily leaving her in the foyer when the phone rang.   She could hear him talking in the kitchen, telling Hazelle to call Gale’s cell because he’d already left, and she took the opportunity to survey Gale’s home.  It was, in a word,  _fantastic._   The foyer was walled with exposed brick, and the living room was lined with huge wooden bookcases.  The ceilings were high, and all the fixtures were wrought iron and glass, bringing just a hint of turn-of-the-century feel to what was otherwise a thoroughly modern home.  It wasn’t exactly what she had pictured, quite frankly, but then again, what had she pictured?  A dumpy apartment full of beer cans, maybe?  That didn’t seem to fit Gale either, now that she thought about it.  This…this made sense, somehow.  Thom returned, apologizing for his absence, and noticed her staring at the bookcases.  “Gale built those, you know,” he commented, “and he restored this whole place.  It was kind of a dump when he bought it.  Guess I lucked out.”  Then Thom grinned and asked if she was the reason he suddenly had a cheerful roommate, and mused aloud that it was strange that someone who generally had no use for animals you couldn’t eat was suddenly offering to cat-sit.  She muttered a non-committal response, practically threw her spare key at Thom, and dashed back down the steps, blushing furiously.  She was doing that a lot these days, it seemed.  And Gale had texted every night to “update” her on Horatio, although that tended to be things like “He’s still a cat,” and  “I scratched his ears, he meowed, I left.”  But still, the texts made her smile, and when she sent him one late this afternoon telling him the merger was done, he’d seemed genuinely impressed and proud.  Which made her happy.   _Too_  happy.  It was just all happening so fast—she liked him, that she knew.  And he liked her, that was fairly obvious.  But they’d gone from “casual acquaintances who hadn’t seen each other in several years” to “one-night stand” to “old married couple” in less than twenty-four hours.  It was a lot to process, made more complicated by the fact that it wasn’t complicated in the slightest.  Her occasional nervousness aside, spending time with Gale was so  _easy_.  It hadn’t escaped her notice that while she’d been a wreck the whole time Gloss was “living” with her, it hadn’t bothered her at all when Gale was there, touching her things, using her shower, washing her dishes.  Quite the contrary, actually.  She kind of liked it.  And that, more than anything else, scared the crap out of her.  How on earth do you broach that?  “ _I know we had sex once and then spent a day hanging out feeling like shit, but do you want to move in with me?_ ”  No, this was going to take some time to process.

Finally reaching her door, she let go of her suitcase handle and started digging in her purse for her keys.  Why hadn’t she put them in her pocket when she got them out to go in the front door?  Her purse was a black hole.  Huffing angrily, she set her purse down on her suitcase and started rooting through it, wondering which of her neighbors was making whatever smelled so  _good,_ when her door suddenly opened.  And Gale was standing there, looking more handsome than any man had a right to look, with his dark green button down open at the throat and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.  Even better, it appeared the smell was coming from  _her_  apartment.  He grabbed her suitcase and purse, ushering her inside and closing the door.

“Madge!  Hey!  I, uh, I saw on the news that traffic was backed up your way and I knew you’d be caught in it, so I thought I’d come over and make you dinner and…”  he trailed off, catching the look of utter bewilderment on her face.  “Ah, damn.  This is weird, isn’t it?  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should have asked.”  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.  “I’m sorry, I just thought that—“

But the rest of his sentence was cut off, because Madge rolled up on her toes and kissed him.  It was just supposed to be a gentle kiss, a “thank you for being so considerate and handsome at the same time” kiss, and it started out that way.  But within seconds it had become something more, something full of heat and passion.  She wrapped her arms around his neck for better leverage, and while she was dimly aware that she was soaked to the bone and her hair was a bedraggled mess, right now, she didn’t care.  Because Gale’s hands were tangled in her hair, his tongue was brushing against hers, and he was pushing her back against the door. 

He slid her blazer off her shoulders, his lips never leaving hers, and she stepped out of her heels, immediately regretting it when their height difference became suddenly much more apparent.  As if he’d read her mind, Gale lifted her up, her legs winding around his waist as he carried her away from the door and over to the back of the love seat.  He balanced her there, pushing her grey shift dress up and over her hips.  His lips skimmed down her throat and his teeth scraped lightly against her collarbone, drawing out a moan.  Madge’s hands scrabbled against his shirt, untucking it from his slacks and working the buttons open, desperate to feel his skin against hers.  His shirt on the floor, Gale began pulling her dress up and over her head, swearing a little when it got stuck around her shoulders.  But a few hard tugs and a bit of giggling from both of them worked it loose, and it soon lay forgotten on the floor.  Her skin was still cold and clammy in places from the storm outside, but Gale’s was dry and warm.  She couldn’t get enough of it, her hands roaming from his back to his chest to his abdomen, her nails leaving thin red trails to mark her path.

Gale tilted her back, one hand cupping the back of her neck and the other on her back, unhooking her bra.  He trailed kisses down her chest, between the valley of her breasts and back up as she let her bra fall.  Madge’s hands knotted themselves in his thick dark hair, drawing him to her for another kiss, sinking her teeth into his lower lip and smiling at his groan.  His hands slid to her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they ached.  Gale knelt, urging her hips up so he could drag her underwear down, pushing her knees a little farther apart and nuzzling the inside of her thighs.  She could just feel a hint of stubble on his jaw, and the sensation made her shiver.  But then his fingers parted her and his tongue lapped at her center, and Madge couldn’t think at all anymore.  The whole world contracted to mere sensations; the way his mouth felt on her, her hand tugging on his hair, her leg draped over his back, her knuckles going white as she clutched the back of the sofa for balance.  And then his tongue touched her clit and she was gone, her body contracting and her mouth issuing a soft moan.  (She wasn’t sure if it was pent up desperation, attraction, or just plain old fashioned skill, but she’d never come that fast from oral before.)

Gale kissed his way back up her torso, holding her limp body tightly as she caught her breath.  “Madge,” he whispered in her ear, “I didn’t bring any, because I wasn’t thinking this would… I just didn’t want to be presumptuous.  Do you…?” he trailed off, and it took her orgasm-addled brain a second to catch on.   _Oh, condoms.  Right_.  She nodded and slid off the back of the couch, padding to her room and frantically searching her nightstand.  Her mission successful, she returned to the living room where Gale rested his hip against the love seat, his arms folded below his chest.  His pants were still on, something the planned to rectify immediately.  She grabbed his hand and steered him around the love seat, unbuttoning his slacks and shoving them along with his boxer briefs down to his ankles before placing a hand on his chest and pushing him to sit down on the couch.  She straddled him, her knees beside his hips, and kissed him as he rolled the condom on.  Madge sank down onto him, pausing for a moment to adjust to him inside of her.  Gale’s eyes never left hers, unfocusing a bit when he entered her, but still on her, pinning her in place.  She began rolling her hips forward, smiling as it dragged curse after curse from his lips.  Her hands were on his shoulders and his fingers dug into her hips, helping her set a rhythm.  He skimmed one hand up her side, curling it around her neck and pulling her closer to him, drawing her in for a kiss.  His other hand left her hip to trace tight circles on her clit, winding a coil of heat through her belly.  His hips surged upwards as he came, a guttural moan tearing from his throat.  His hand never stopped moving, and moments later Madge came again, contracting around him and leaning forward to rest her head on his shoulder, completely spent.

They lay that way for a few moments, trying to catch their breath, before a wild laugh escaped her.  She felt his head turn in her direction, and she struggled in vain to smother her smile as she met his gaze.  “So…thanks for cat-sitting?”

Gale looked at her for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.  He twisted her in his arms, pinning her back to the couch and settling into the cradle of her hips.  His legs were too long to stretch out, so he bent them at the knee and rested his shins against the arm rest, kissing her over and over again until her stomach gurgled.

She tapped his head with her fingers.  “Um, Gale?”

“Mmmph,” came his response from somewhere in the neighborhood of her breasts, where his head was currently residing.

“Weren’t you going to make me dinner?”

His head snapped up, his face schooled into a mock scowl.  “What, cat-sitting and two orgasms isn’t enough for you?  Christ, you’re demanding.”

She laughed, and he lost control of the frown, his face splitting into an enormous grin.  He patted the side of her thigh gently.  “All right, fine.  Why don’t you go slip into something more comfortable and I’ll get the noodles going.  The sauce is done, so we can eat as soon as they’re ready.”  He lifted himself up to give her space to wriggle out from under him.  “Go on, now, Undersee.  I don’t have all day.”

“Um, excuse me, but ‘slip into something more comfortable?’  Gale Hawthorne, are you trying to  _seduce_ me?”

“Already did, princess.  Now go on,  _get.”_ He punctuated his last statement with a light swat to her backside as she walked away, earning more laughter from Madge.

 

Madge stared into her closet, wondering what on earth you wear after literally tearing someone’s clothes off as soon as you walk in the door.  Dressing up seemed pointless, especially after last weekend’s slouch-fest.  But wearing what she’d normally wear when staying in a Friday night—sweatpants and an old t-shirt—didn’t seem right either.  She settled on a pair of stretchy skinny jeans, a white tank top, and a long, open-front navy cardigan.  Comfy, but nice.  She almost went back into the kitchen, but stopped and darted into the bathroom to take out her contacts.  She’d seen his reaction to her glasses, so why not?  She pulled her hair into a messy pony tail and exited the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Gale was redressed (which disappointed her, although on second thought cooking while naked seemed like an exceedingly bad idea) and standing in front of the stove.  He stirred the sauce with his back to her, and she took a moment to appreciate the way his dress shirt fit to his shoulders and biceps, and the way his dark grey trousers clung to his ass.  She could get used to this, that’s for sure.  She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, standing on her tiptoes to try and see over his shoulder but failing, so she settled for pressing a kiss to his shoulder blades instead.  He set the spoon down and turned around, tilting her chin up for a kiss and then lifting her up onto the island, insinuating himself between her knees.  He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.  “Nice glasses,” he murmured.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, craning her neck to look him in the eye.  “Just how tall are you, Gale Hawthorne?”  Sitting on the counter she was still a head shorter than him, and she wasn’t  _that_  short.

“6’3, but if Rory asks, I’m 6’4.”  He grinned and untangled himself from her embrace.  “But you need to let me go if we’re ever going to eat tonight.”

She pouted, but brightened again when he poured her a glass of red wine.  They toasted to, as Madge put it, “Whatever  _this_  is,” and the evening flew by, fueled by their laughter—Madge’s iPod was on her Josh Groban album, which Gale mocked until she pointed out he’d recognized it as Josh Groban in two bars (“I do have a mother, you know” was his excuse), and it turned out that Gale knew every word to “Wrecking Ball _,_ ” a fact he blamed on sixteen year old Posy going through her first breakup.  Madge had seen Posy at the wedding, but she’d had a hard time reconciling the tiny girl in pigtails in Katniss’ photos with the striking young woman with a pixie cut flirting with Peeta’s cousins.  She privately thought Gale was in for a whole lot more trouble with Posy, but kept that thought to herself.

They did the dishes together after dinner, even though Madge had tried insisting that since he cooked, she would clean.  Once the dishwasher was loaded and the leftovers put away, they sat down on the couch to watch a movie, Madge tucked tightly into Gale’s arms.  She fell asleep before the movie was over, though, and when she felt him carry her to bed she sighed happily.

The next morning, Madge awoke acutely aware of three things.  First, the sun was shining, yesterday’s storm a thing of the past.  Second, Gale’s arm was once again draped over her torso, her back pressed to his chest.  Third, she was happier than she ever remembered being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to bleedtoloveher for her beta/handholding skills.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s madgesundersee‘s birthday today, and in honor of her being a non-stop gadge machine and all around great human, I decided to add a little to her favorite gadge ‘verse of mine, Whatever This Is.

“Gale?” Madge called, tossing her keys on the table.  “You home?”  She heard movement upstairs and his jacket hung on the rack, so she dropped her briefcase to the floor and shed her coat.  “Gale?” she called again, but the rumble of water through pipes kicked in.   _Must be taking a shower_ , she thought to herself.  She couldn’t remember if he’d had a site visit today, but if he did he was probably muddy and grimy. **  
**

She walked through the narrow hallway to the kitchen, avoiding the boxes still scattered on the floor.  Madge had originally planned to be totally unpacked by the end of the weekend, but of course a partner had called her in a panic on Sunday morning about the upcoming merger and demanded she come in right away.  So now it was Wednesday and she was no closer to being unpacked than she was on Sunday.  Gale had offered, of course, but she wanted to do it herself.  She wanted to feel like it was _her_ place too, not just Gale’s.

 

 

A bottle of red wine was sitting out on the counter along with a glass and she smiled to herself.  They hadn’t even been together a year and already he knew her so well.  She poured herself a healthy glass and decided to go interrupt his shower.  Horatio darted past her on the steps, brushing against her ankles as he made for the guest bedroom where he’d been hiding since she brought him over on Saturday.  She stepped over a few more boxes she’d left on the landing and into their bedroom, still a little in awe at the restorations Gale had done.  His townhome stood in stark contrast to the bland, boilerplate apartment she’d lived in before.  When her lease ran out he’d gently broached the subject and she jumped at the chance, and even though it meant she had to put up with endless teasing that _you’re just using me for my house_ , she didn’t regret her decision for a second.  Moving in with Gale was probably the easiest decision she’d ever made, second only to kissing him at Katniss and Peeta’s wedding.  (Their friends still gave them shit for hooking up at a wedding, but neither of them gave a damn.  Sure, maybe they had to edit some details when explaining how they got together to their families, but it was more than worth it.)

Madge toed off her heels and padded through the bedroom to the master bath, almost dribbling wine down her chin when she saw Gale perched on the rim of the tub, still fully clothed.  “Thought you were showering,” she said, wiping her chin and leaning down to kiss him hello.

“Figured you’d want a bath,” he murmured, catching her wrist and keeping his lips against hers.  “Merger done?”

“Everything but the signatures,” she confirmed.  “And you read my mind.”  Madge set her wine glass down next to the sink and unzipped her black skirt.  “Did you have a site visit today?”

Gale shook his head and turned off the faucet.  “That’s tomorrow.  Work was fine today.  Boring, really.”

Madge shrugged out of her shirt just as Gale stood up and headed for the door.  “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, twisting her arms behind her back to unhook her bra.

“Thought you’d want some time alone to unwind?”

Madge rolled her eyes.  “Please.  Get your ass back in here,” she ordered and shimmied out of her panties.  Gale offered her a hand as she stepped into the deep tub (she knew they were meant to be when she saw this bathroom on their second official date, because baths were the quickest way to her heart) and then started shucking his own clothes.

As always, he hissed a little when his feet touched the water.  Madge liked her bathwater just this side of boiling, and Gale only put up with it for her sake.  He settled behind her and brought her back to his chest.  “So are they signing everything tomorrow?” he asked, grabbing her wine glass from the counter and passing it to her.

“That’s Friday.  Tomorrow’s just a regular day, but once everything’s done on Friday they’ll probably expect a happy hour celebration, so you’ll be on your own for dinner.”  She took a long sip of her wine and let the combination of hot water, wine, and Gale’s body pressed to hers draw the tension from her muscles.  “And I’ll finish unpacking this weekend, I swear.”

“It’s fine,” he soothed, kissing the top of her shoulder.  “Really.  Most people take longer to unpack than a day and a half, you know.”

Madge nestled a little deeper into his embrace.  “You’ll have to move some of your books from the downstairs shelves then,” she teased, because their one sticking point in moving in together was whose books got to be displayed on the shelves and whose books got relegated to boxes in the basement.  Gale had promised her he would work on turning the basement into an office-slash-library over the summer, but that was still months away.

Gale laughed and stole her glass of wine.  “We’ll see about that, Undersee.”  She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at him until he gave her back her wine.

Madge sighed happily as Gale kissed the side of her neck.  Whatever this was, it was good.


	4. Prequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally submitted this to swishywillow as the gadge fairy but never actually published it here and didn’t realize that until today. So here it is.

Gale took another swig of the jungle juice, wincing at both the overbearing sweetness and the burn of everclear.  It was hotter than balls in this house, packed with a bunch of undergrads he didn’t know.  But he’d promised Katniss that he would be social this visit (he’d been a little…unpleasant to her roommate when he came two years ago), although he’d never imagined that being social with Katniss would involve a house party with a “CEO’s and Office Ho’s” theme, of all things.  But Katniss’ friend Johanna had loudly announced that they were going,  _no exceptions,_  and Katniss had just shrugged and gone downstairs to borrow some blond guy’s tie.  So here he was, in the blond’s roommate’s button down shirt, getting drunk at a house party.  

If he was honest with himself, he was having fun.  He had a decent buzz going, and even though Katniss was basically running the beer pong table (with Blond Neighbor practically glued to her side) leaving him to fend for himself, it wasn’t so bad.  Mostly because of  _her_.

Madge.  Katniss’ roommate, randomly assigned her freshman year.  She was from money, so Gale had originally assumed she’d be a stuck up bitch, something like Cashmere the Sorority Queen at his university.  When he first met her, he’d been a ball of sarcasm and snarling retorts, and Katniss had been livid.  So when he offered to make the two hour drive to visit Catnip this year, she agreed on the condition that he apologized to Madge first.

So he had, and while she’d been rather cool to him for the first day, things had considerably warmed up since then.  She could hold her own with him, a fact he more than appreciated.  And tonight, at this ridiculous fucking theme party, he couldn’t take his damn eyes off her.

Even though she’d rolled her eyes at him when Johanna announced that not only was the party themed, but they would be dressing up  _or else_ , she’d risen to the occasion with a mini skirt, fitted blazer, and dark framed glasses.  He’d nearly dropped his beer when she came out of her room like that, with her wavy blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail and bright red pumps.

And now she was leaning against the wall across the room, swirling the red cup she’d been nursing all night in her hand and looking bored.  He could have sworn she brightened a bit when she saw him, but then again, they were both pretty drunk.  They’d spent the better part of the evening keeping each other company, laughing at what she called the “poor decisions factory” happening around them.

He pushed his way through the sweaty masses, leaning against the wall next to her.  “Christ, do these jackasses have the heat on or something?” he ventured, hoping to make her laugh again and worried that he sounded kind of stupid.

She nodded, waving her hand in front of her face.  “It’s… fuck.  It’s hot.”  She was flushed, and some of the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail were stuck to her cheeks, darkened with sweat.

Gale pushed off the wall and grabbed her wrist, towing her through the partygoers to the back door.  He was about to push it open when some muscle-bound meathead stepped in front of him.  “No drinks outside,” the neck-less wonder announced.  “If we get busted again we’ll be in deep shit.”

“Really not my problem,” Gale snarled.  “She needs some air, so we’re going outside.”

Meathead crossed his arms.  “I said, no drinks outside.”

Madge stepped between them, placing a hand on Gale’s chest.  “Gale, it’s fine.  I can finish my drink first.  It’s no big deal.”

But Gale had something to prove now, so without breaking eye contact with Meathead he quickly downed the rest of his drink and blindly reached for Madge’s, throwing it back in one gulp.

Holy shit.  “Fuck, Madge.  What was in this?  Gasoline?”

She shrugged.  “I was only going to have the one drink, so I figured I’d make it count.”

Well, there went his plan of being only sort-of buzzed tonight.  He was officially on the train to Drunksville.  Pushing that thought aside, he raised an eyebrow at Meathead, who grudgingly stepped aside and let them through the door.

It was about 30 degrees cooler outside, and a light breeze ruffled the ends of Madge’s hair.  They both sighed in relief, leaning against the rickety railing.  Madge turned her head towards him, grinning slightly.  “You were going to punch Cato, weren’t you?”

“Ehhh…probably not.  Dickbag like that probably does MMA, or at least thinks he does.”

Madge threw her head back and laughed.  “So what, you’re saying Gale Hawthorne was too chicken to fight?  That doesn’t really seem like you.  You’re all ‘rawr, I’m a man and I’m angry.’”  At that last bit, she bowed her elbows out to the side and clenched her fists, screwing her face into a scowl and doing a weird little cave-man waddle.

Now it was Gale’s turn to laugh.  “No, more like Gale Hawthorne doesn’t want to get the cops called to a party where all his friends are drinking underage.”

“Touché,” she replied.

They stood in silence for a bit, enjoying the cool breeze and listening to the muffled bass thumping from the house. Finishing those drinks so quickly was starting to hit him, because he could feel the urge to say something stupid like “you’re really pretty” or “why don’t you wear those glasses all the time,” or something equally ridiculous, like “I really like you, Madge.”  So he kept his mouth shut.  After a few minutes, she casually grabbed his forearm for balance as she toed her heels off, sinking a good 2-3 inches as she stepped out of them.  He’d wrapped his fingers around her elbow for support, but when she was out of her shoes, neither of them let go.  They stood there, staring at each other, until the door slammed open, startling them apart.  A couple drunk guys raced past and rounded the corner, apparently unable to wait in line for the bathroom.

Gale was about to suggest they go on a walk when he felt himself start to sway.  Or more accurately, the ground started moving under his feet.  Yup, he was drunk.  He took a step backwards, intending to lean on the railing again, but he missed and stumbled down the stairs.

“Gale!” Madge shrieked.  “Shit.  Are you all right?”

Gale nodded, righting himself and then sitting down heavily on the bottom step.  Madge crouched in front of him, apparently checking for injuries.  Before he could stop himself, he reached out and tucked a loose wave back behind her ear.   Madge smiled softly, and then announced she was going to go get Katniss and head home.  “You going to be okay here, Hawthorne?”

“Sure,” he slurred, pulling his phone out of his pocket.  “I’ve got something to tell my brother, anyway.”

When Madge came back outside, reporting that Katniss would be ready to go soon, she sat down next to him and let him rest his head on her shoulder.  When Katniss and Blonde Neighbor came out the back door, that’s how they found them; Gale leaning on Madge as she rubbed slow circles on his back, humming softly.


End file.
